


Lie in the Sound

by shamusandstone (theleaveswant)



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-02
Updated: 2009-05-02
Packaged: 2017-10-12 08:49:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theleaveswant/pseuds/shamusandstone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I am falling, say my name<br/>And I'll lie in the sound.<br/>What is love but whatever<br/>My heart needs around?<br/>-Lie in the Sound, Trespassers William <a href="http://1297.livejournal.com/10885.html?thread=468869#t468869">(thread)</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Lie in the Sound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stainofmylove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stainofmylove/gifts).



There's a thunderstorm the first night that she crawls into your bed. At first you think it's weird, almost funny, that she should be afraid of lightning that isn't her own, but when she tucks up against you, buries her tear-damp face in your collarbone, you know better than to question it. You don't try to take advantage (although you very much wish you could be responsible for making her tremble, not quite like this but in a somewhat analogous way). Instead you wrap one arm tentatively around her shoulders and fall asleep with the smell of her hair in your nostrils.

You don't talk about it the next day, just eat your toast in silence and go to work. It's a good day because nobody dies, at least nobody you can see. You're still exhausted when you get home, so you take your pajamas into the bathroom to change. She's waiting outside the door when you emerge. She tells you it's cold on the couch. You offer her another blanket and she looks down at her bare toes scuffing your worn floorboards. Okay, you say, and she follows you to the bed.

You start out on opposite sides but every restless twitch brings you closer until you're in the middle, spooning around her. She sighs and turns to face you, brushing knuckles over your chest. She plants a moth-flutter kiss on the corner of your mouth and you realize that you can't remember hearing her say your name, not even once in the two weeks and three days that she's been living in your apartment, sleeping on your couch. Your jaw twitches with the panged urge to make her say it, make sure she knows whose arms she's in, but at the same time you don't dare. You press your face to hers instead, nuzzling foreheads and noses and allowing your breaths to mingle on parted lips. The longer she doesn't say it, the longer you can delude yourself that maybe she's at least thinking it.


End file.
